


The irony of fate

by Bubulona



Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: "missing" scenes throughout the years, Angst, Broken Families, Broken Friendships, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hate, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Non-Linear Narrative, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Spoilers, Time Travel, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubulona/pseuds/Bubulona
Summary: Bartosz was never the same. He was alive but barely living; he was in a hell that just kept getting worse.How cruel is fate.“You no longer believe in the prophecy?”"I believe in the irony of fate.”OrBartosz's thoughts and feelings throughout the show (Seasons 1-3).
Relationships: Bartosz Tiedemann & Agnes Nielsen, Bartosz Tiedemann/Silja Tiedemann, Jonas Kahnwald & Bartosz Tiedemann, Martha Nielsen/Bartosz Tiedemann, Noah | Hanno Tauber & Bartosz Tiedemann
Comments: 21
Kudos: 32





	The irony of fate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Dark. This wonderful and complicated series belongs to Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese and Netflix.
> 
> This is a non-linear fic that covers Bartosz's, thoughts, feelings, and life from 2019-1921.

Bartosz wondered when everything had turned to shit.

Had it been at the start of their friendship group? Had it been when he became friends with Jonas? Had it been when he realized that he didn’t know how to be a friend? Was it when he had failed his friends, or was it when they betrayed him? Could it have been when he had failed to save his family? Was it when his son was born, or was it when his daughter was born? Was it Silja had died? Or was it now, as Bartosz dug the Sic Mundus tunnel with his son?

Maybe things in Winden had always been nothing but shit.

And maybe he was the biggest one of them.

* * *

Bartosz Tiedemann was _the_ shit.

He was the son of the most powerful family in Winden. He was the richest guy at school, and he had enough money to get whatever he wanted. He didn’t have to worry about anything―his future was secure and set in stone.

It was simple.

One day, Bartosz would inherit the Nuclear Power Plant, become the director, marry the most beautiful girl, and be the boss of everyone.

He knew for a fact that many people were jealous of him―he couldn’t blame them, Bartosz would be jealous of himself too if he lived their lives.

Life wouldn’t get any better.

* * *

Life wouldn’t get any worse.

Bartosz’s future―what he knew should have been his future―had been nothing but an illusion, a stark contrast to his reality.

Was he meant to be the opposite of what he should have been? Was Bartosz nothing more than a dumb and poor follower, meant to live under ~~Jonas’s~~ Adam’s shadow?

Was he meant to be a being living in loneliness and betrayal? Was this loneliness well-deserved or was he just a victim of circumstance?

Did Bartosz ever have the power to change things, or had it all been a sick and twisted joke by fate?

Did he care anymore?

Would things have been different had he truly believed in the “Prophecy”?

Would he be freed of these thoughts and feelings the moment he died?

Would he see anyone he had ever loved on the other side, or would it all be darkness?

Did it even matter anymore?

Why was it that the most important things, the things you need to know the most, are the ones no one ever tells you about?

* * *

No one ever tells you how to comfort your best friend who has lost his father to suicide.

What was Bartosz supposed to do?

He couldn’t just tell Jonas the go-to comfort phrase used by the Tiedemann family. How could Bartosz tell him that ‘everything was okay’, when clearly it wasn’t?

Bartosz hated to admit it, since so many years had passed and he knew more than he did back then (but then again, it seemed like he never knew enough, right?), but Bartosz wondered if he could have done a better job at being Jonas’s friend. 

Logically, Bartosz knew that he wasn’t the reason for Michael Kahnwald’s suicide. However, that didn’t stop him from briefly wondering if maybe he had aided the man in his death. Had Bartosz had the idea to visit the lake any other day, Jonas would've stayed with his father and noticed that something was off with the man. But if Bartosz was honest, he knew his friend’s father had always been a little on the odd side, and he sensed that Jonas knew that too. Maybe Jonas would've spent that day with his father and never gone to the Nielsen’s anniversary party. Maybe none of this would've happened. Or maybe Michael Kahnwald knew that everything was doomed to fail and made the wise decision to leave on his own terms.

There were so many maybes going through Bartosz’s head, but he would never get the answers.

* * *

He berated himself for the way he'd answered his best friend’s phone call that fateful summer day. He'd been the only person Jonas had called that day, and Bartosz could never understand why Jonas did so.

Bartosz’s phone rang as he had lunch with his parents. His first response was to ignore the call, but upon seeing _Jonas Kahnwald_ on his screen, he decided to answer. Part of him had answered the phone call because they were supposed to meet later in the day. The other part of him had answered because he wanted confirmation that nothing had happened between Martha and Jonas during the Nielsen party.

With his phone in his hand, Bartosz answered with a stupid joke. He waited for Jonas to laugh, but Bartosz heard no laughter. Trying to figure out what was going on, Bartosz tried again with another lame joke, but the result was the same. That’s when he realized that there were sniffs and… sobbing?

Bartosz’s demeanor completely changed and he became worried. He stood up and turned away from his parents, both of whom had noticed the difference in their son.

“Jonas?” he asked, shuffling his feet. As much as Jonas could sometimes irritate Bartosz with his overall air of goodness and obliviousness, Jonas was still his friend. And although part of Bartosz wanted to make another joke, he knew that he couldn’t be a jerk. Whatever this was, it was serious. “Jonas, slow down. I can’t understand what you’re saying. What’s wrong, man?”

Had he ever really heard Jonas cry?

As terrible and pathetic as it sounded, Bartosz hoped that Jonas was crying over a love rejection from Martha.

But that wasn’t the case.

Bartosz felt his parents place their hands on his shoulders but he chose to ignore them. And when Bartosz heard Jonas say what he said, Bartosz’s frown turned into a shocked expression and he heard himself gasp.

On impulse, without waiting for Jonas to reply, Bartosz said, “I’m on my way.”

And Bartosz couldn’t help but feel like the biggest asshole. Maybe it would've been better for Jonas to have been crying over Martha and not what was happening.

He wasn’t that much of a jerk to let his best friend be alone in his suffering; Bartosz knew that Jonas didn’t deserve the misery.

* * *

Jonas deserved all the misery in the world.

There were many times Bartosz had wished nothing but misery and suffering for Jonas.

But as the years passed, and as resignation kicked in, Bartosz couldn’t help but wonder if what people said was true.

_You reap what you sow._

With a drink in hand and staring out the window towards what used to be the Old Tannhaus factory, Bartosz thought of everything that led up to this point. Maybe it was Bartosz who deserved all the suffering and misery in the world. Maybe Bartosz deserved everything that happened to him because he had been a terrible person. Maybe it had taken Jonas a while to realize that Bartosz hadn’t been the best friend he had thought, and now that he was finally Adam, he was on his way to plan Bartosz’s fall.

Bartosz gulped down the rest of the drink.

_You reap what you sow._

* * *

He wondered what he was getting out of their friendship.

What exactly _was_ the friendship between Bartosz Tiedemann and Jonas Kahnwald?

Those were the questions that lingered in Bartosz’s head as his father drove to the Kahnwald home.

With everything that was happening, it wasn't like Bartosz wanted to be at the Kahnwald home. But for some reason, he'd already told Jonas that he was on his way, almost as if to prove that the son of the most powerful man in town could do something that no one else could.

As he got out of the car, choosing to ignore the police cars, Bartosz’s eyes searched for Jonas. He saw Hannah crying in one corner, talking to Martha’s father. In another corner, he saw who he thought was Jonas’s grandmother, but he wasn’t sure; he’d only seen the old lady about twice. His eyes kept searching… And then, he saw him. Jonas was by a tree and all alone.

_Oh God, Jonas._

He had never seen Jonas like this. Not to sound like a douchebag, but Jonas looked even more pathetic and pitiful than before.

Bartosz could see that Jonas was shaking uncontrollably. And although his hands covered his face, Bartosz could still hear his friend’s hard sobs. It was as if Jonas wanted to be away from everyone else, as if the darkness that his hands provided could make everything and the pain disappear.

Bartosz, not knowing what to do or how to approach someone who had just lost a family member, slowly got close to Jonas. His hands played with his jacket sleeve, and he shuffled his feet.

_Man, this is awkward._

“Jonas?” Bartosz had asked in a voice that sounded stupid in his ears. Nonetheless, it had the desired effect.

Slowly removing his hands―which Bartosz noticed were covered in snot, tears, and possibly saliva―, Jonas looked up, bloodshot eyes focusing on Bartosz. Bartosz tried not to grimace.

Bartosz sat down next to Jonas, and quickly tried to remember if the clothes he had on were worth letting Jonas dirty them. Before he could let shallow thoughts consume him, Bartosz placed his arms around Jonas, rubbing soothing circles on his back. This made Jonas cry harder, and Bartosz had no choice but to let him cry on his shoulder. And although Bartosz’s shoulder was getting numb, he tried to ignore the pain. He knew that Jonas's pain was greater than his. 

Rather than look at Jonas, Bartosz kept his line of sight toward his feet, unable to compare his shoes with Jonas’s. Although everything Bartosz owned had always been in a better state and quality, he knew that he only had material goods and wealth. Unlike him, Jonas had the love and acceptance of everyone. Bartosz never had that; he only had his parents―who would one day die―and Jonas’s friendship. At the end of the day, for better or for worse, Jonas was the only person he would left in this world.

It was at that moment that Bartosz realized that Jonas was the closest thing he had to a brother.

What would a brother say in times like these?

As Jonas kept muttering the same things over and over again, like a scratched CD, Bartosz could say nothing more than, “It’s not your fault, Jonas. None of it is your fault.”

* * *

Everything was Jonas’s fault.

He was to blame for everything.

He didn’t need Noah to tell him that.

He didn’t need a Martha from another world to tell him that.

He didn’t need one, two, or three decades of following Adam’s orders to know that.

Bartosz just knew that everything was Jonas Kahnwald’s damn fault.

It was the only thing in his life that felt real, the only constant, the only thing he could say to comfort himself during the cold rainy Winden nights while living in this hell.

But sometimes, Bartosz wondered if maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he was the one who told Noah that everything was Jonas’s fault. Maybe that had caused an endless cycle of suffering that he wasn’t aware of.

What if Bartosz had used other words? Would things have changed?

No, they wouldn’t have; it would still be Jonas’s fault.

And there was no change to that and no way to stop it. Adam, Magnus, Franziska, and Bartosz wouldn’t―couldn’t―change, but... could Hanno change? Could he still change his path? Could Bartosz stop him from fully becoming Noah?

Could Hanno, or Noah, pick up on the signs that were so obvious?

* * *

Although Bartosz had never been the brightest, it didn't mean that he didn’t pick up on things―it just took him a little longer, that’s all.

No one had to tell him that there was something different in the Tiedemann home’s atmosphere. He didn’t need Noah to tell him that his mother was sick with cancer. He had noticed that something was off with her. Bartosz had also noticed that his father had been reassuring his mother more often than usual.

He didn’t need to ask to know that things would never be the same.

He didn’t need to ask to know that now that he had knowledge, his mission was to change things and protect his family.

He didn’t need to ask because asking made him look stupid. Asking made it seem like everyone else already knew something that was so obvious expect him. Asking made it more obvious that Bartosz didn’t know anything and that he was stupid.

* * *

Why was he so stupid?

Bartosz wished he'd never come up with such a stupid plan.

When Jonas had told him that he was going to a psychiatric ward, Bartosz didn’t know what to say.

With Jonas out of the picture, Bartosz could create the perfect plan and change things in his favor.

It was stupid. But at the time, it hadn’t seemed like it.

On one hand, it looked like the perfect opportunity to become the group’s favorite. On the other hand, Bartosz recognized that Jonas would always be the favorite; heck, even he was Bartosz's favorite. Jonas was an essential member; he kept the friendships as they were.

Bartosz knew that he would miss him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. As much as Bartosz sometimes put himself in a higher position and viewed himself as better than Jonas, he knew that he couldn’t compare to Jonas. For starters, Jonas would never do that to him; Jonas would never do that to anyone. Jonas was good and kind, and everything Bartosz knows he should strive for.

Jonas made him swear not to tell anyone where he was going, especially not to Martha. Although Bartosz didn’t say anything, he knew Jonas was afraid that people would think that he was a freak for going to a “nuthouse”. He knew that Jonas was afraid that there would be another reason to look at him weird, that he was the same as his father. Jonas was already a little weird, so Bartosz knew he didn’t want another label on him. If Bartosz wanted to be self-centered about it, he also didn't want people to know about Jonas's situation. Everyone knew that Bartosz and Jonas were best friends, and if everyone knew that Jonas was admitted into a nuthouse, Bartosz would definitely be thought of as another basket case. 

So Bartosz had told him that he would tell people that Jonas was going to study in France; it seemed plausible.

At the time though, Bartosz hadn’t realized that he might have the need to elaborate as the school year progressed.

He also hadn’t planned to tell Martha that Jonas was probably learning French, playing 'putting the baguette in the oven', and French kissing all the beautiful French girls available. Or maybe he had planned it… he finally had an opportunity at being Martha’s center of attention.

It was finally Bartosz’s chance to get Martha to like him.

Ignoring the guilt he felt, Bartosz had convinced himself that it was for Jonas’s well-being. It wasn't like Jonas was fit to be in a relationship right now, with him going crazy and all. Besides, it wasn’t like anything had happened between Jonas and Martha.

* * *

How the hell was Bartosz supposed to know Jonas liked Martha? How was he supposed to know that they had had a thing going on before he came into the picture?

Okay, so maybe he might've guessed that Jonas had a thing for Martha; which sane guy wouldn’t have a thing for her? And maybe Bartosz might've kind of noticed that Martha might have felt something towards Jonas as well.

But in his defense, Bartosz had never heard them be vocal or public about their feelings or their relationship status. So how the hell was he supposed to know that they had been a thing?

What about him?

Had Bartosz ever had a chance at this?

Was everyone destined to have someone to love but not him?

Was Bartosz really that unlovable and undesirable?

Had Martha never felt anything towards him?

Not even a little crush?

* * *

Bartosz had had a crush on Martha for a long time; how could he not?

Martha was Martha and Bartosz was Bartosz.

They would be the perfect match.

Sure, maybe he was awkward in his compliments, but it still made him glad that she laughed at his jokes, and that she liked being around him.

Bartosz was in love.

* * *

Thinking back on Martha and the other world Martha, Bartosz realized that he'd never been in love with Martha. He had felt feelings for her and cared for her, but now that he was older, he knew that what they had had never been love. It hadn’t been like what he had imagined in his head, nor had it been like the love he saw in his parents’ relationship.

He wished he could go back and apologize to her, and end things on a better note.

_No, that wasn’t it._

He wished he could go back and stop himself from starting a relationship with Martha. It had always felt awkward, confusing, and wrong.

Maybe she would've stayed alive and none of this would've happened.

* * *

As terrible as it sounded, Bartosz was glad that it had happened.

Jonas was away in the loony bin and Bartosz had a chance with Martha.

The only downside to Jonas being in the nuthouse was things were awkward in their little friendship group. Everything just felt odd and out-of-sync, like Jonas was their missing piece―even if Jonas never said much.

But it didn’t take long for Bartosz and Martha to hang out; she had made the first move.

It was _really_ awkward.

It was as if all this time they had needed someone else to make their dynamic work.

The date wasn’t a disaster, but they'd stumbled a lot. Martha would mention something Bartosz had no knowledge about, and Bartosz would struggle to speak in coherent sentences, leaving Martha no choice but to smile like she was in pain.

Things got better though.

Eventually, the forced chatter and awkwardness changed into something more relaxed and natural as they spoke about themselves and their shared worries regarding Jonas.

By the end of their “hanging out”, Bartosz had hugged Martha and she'd kissed his cheek.

And like an idiot Bartosz had started mumbling nonsense that made Martha chuckle lightly. Hearing her laugh made Bartosz feel all warm and special.

Maybe he had a chance with her.

Maybe Martha saw more in Bartosz than he could ever see in himself.

* * *

For all the confidence Bartosz claimed he had, Bartosz never really saw much in himself.

Bartosz had always felt awkward and useless, but he knew how to mask those insecurities well enough that no one noticed. He had to do so for he had no quality of his own. Everyone knew that in their group, his sole purpose was to be the one with the money―money that his parents had earned―and nothing else.

Jonas was the timid but genuinely nice one of the group. Bartosz knew that Jonas’s niceness could piss people off, but that didn’t stop everyone from liking him. Jonas stood out like a golden boy, but not because he had any brains―which, in all honesty, he didn’t have any―, but because with his simple smile, golden hair, and yellow raincoat, he reminded people of good things.

Magnus was the strong leader and designated mediator. Although Bartosz and Magnus were known for their pranks and plans, they were only ever executed because of Magnus. Without Magnus, nothing would ever get done. And not only that, whenever there was an argument, Magnus was the one who acted as a mediator and knew how to handle the situation.

Martha… oh, Martha. Bartosz felt like a fool around her; he was pretty sure his crush on her was painfully obvious. She was the talented, smart, sexy, and beautiful one. How could he not be attracted to her?

And Franziska… Bartosz couldn’t stand her. Although she wasn’t part of the group, she was fiery and the smartest person Bartosz knew. She was strong and independent, and had no problem calling out people on their bullshit, which sadly often included Bartosz. And it was precisely because of that that he didn’t like Franziska.

She was the living proof that his future could be taken from him.

She seemed to embody the Tiedemann family better than Bartosz did.

And although Bartosz had never met his grandmother, Claudia, he was pretty sure that Franziska was closer in terms of personality, smarts, and looks to his grandmother than he ever was. And while Franziska Doppler was more like Claudia Tiedemann, Bartosz seemed closer to becoming Helge Doppler, or the town’s biggest weirdo, idiot and loser.

Helge Doppler wasn’t Bartosz’s future…

Was he?

* * *

As life would have it, Bartosz did become Helge Doppler, though in a much crueler sense than he'd ever hoped for.

He hadn’t become disfigured or demented like the man, but he'd lost everything that should've been his. And although his scars weren’t visible, Bartosz had more than he could count.

Bartosz was the new Helge Doppler.

And while Helge Doppler had the excuse of being kidnapped and conditioned since a child, Bartosz had nothing to excuse himself. He was just the idiot who'd trusted a time traveling priest and had become the henchman to Adam’s plans.

One minute, Bartosz was minding his own business being the richest teenager in town, with the school’s hottest girl as his girlfriend, and trying to see if he could sell some drugs. The next minute, he was an absolute nobody, was stuck in the past, and found himself cursing at time and fate’s cruel joke.

He really was the town’s biggest idiot.

* * *

Bartosz was no idiot.

He knew he could strike a deal with Erik’s dealer.

Bartosz didn’t need to sell drugs to get money―he had more than enough from his parents. Maybe all he wanted was to distract himself with something that didn’t involve more people missing.

Bartosz didn’t know who he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t Noah.

Why would a priest in an expensive car be selling drugs with Erik Obendorf?

But Bartosz saw Noah, he felt weird… like a déjà vu or something like that. The weirdest part about it was that Noah looked at Bartosz like he knew him, like they had met before, and Bartosz kind of felt the same. But the thing was Bartosz didn’t go to church, and he was pretty sure he had never seen the man.

Noah told Bartosz things that had happened and things that would happen.

Bartosz was both scared and in awe.

One part of him didn’t want to believe the man. But another part of him told him that everything Noah had said was true.

When Bartosz got out of the car, he only had one question.

Was this man shady or was he the real thing?

* * *

Was this real or was this a nightmare?

Realistically, Bartosz knew that he'd travelled with Franziska, Magnus, and this older version of Jonas to 1888. But part of him wanted this to be fake, because, although he had spent around half a year travelling through time, he'd always had a way to go back.

Now it just seemed like they were all playing pretend or at a costume party with a 19th century theme. Had it not been because of the panicked and frustrated state Bartosz was in, he might've looked at himself in the mirror and commented on how good the clothes looked on him.

But no, this wasn’t a costume party, it wasn’t a video game, most definitely not a dream, and they were stuck in the 19th century. They would be stuck forever, despite what this Jonas insisted.

They had no future.

* * *

Sometimes Bartosz wondered how much of the future Jonas had seen.

Bartosz knew nothing of his future.

Did Jonas know about Bartosz’s future?

What would happen to Bartosz in the long run?

What was this Jonas capable of doing against Bartosz?

Bartosz knew nothing.

All he knew was that Jonas was Adam… and if what Noah had told him was true, then Bartosz should be very scared.

Adam was capable of anything and everything in his war against time.

And Bartosz wasn’t sure if he wanted in this side of the war.

* * *

She was right by his side as he showed her Sic Mundus.

He wasn’t scare of this Martha, even if it was eerie how much she looked like Martha.

_Oh, Martha…_

Bartosz didn’t know whether to mourn her death or not. Bartosz’s only comfort was that Martha wouldn’t have to live through this hell. But then again, maybe she would've known what to do with this Jonas and his war against whoever the hell this Adam was.

Although Noah had mentioned Adam a few times, Bartosz had no idea who this man was. 

But then this other world Martha told him who Adam really was, and Bartosz’s blood went cold.

* * *

He could feel himself slowly growing colder on the inside.

There were nights―far too many―where he could feel that he was losing himself. He felt like he was losing his mind. But those weren’t the worse days.

The worst ones were where when he thought about leaving Winden, leaving Jonas, Magnus, and Franziska, and never looking back. Those were the days he desperately wanted someone to tell him that everything was okay, that everything would be okay. Bartosz wanted someone to comfort him like he parents used to when he was younger.

Why didn’t he spend more time with his parents instead of wasting time with Noah? Why had Bartosz believed Noah when he said that Bartosz could save them?

* * *

He couldn’t save Silja.

He couldn’t save her like he couldn’t save his parents.

He had caused their deaths.

He had helped Adam in doing so. 

Bartosz spent days looking out the window, towards where he thought the Winden caves might be. Some days, he would spend his entire day just walking around the town with no plan in mind. Other times, Bartosz would be sitting in the forest, in the same spot he had met her all those years ago. And sometimes, he would spend the day fixing Adam’s car even if nothing was wrong with it. But more often than not, Bartosz could be found sitting at Erna’s inn, holed up in a corner, staring at his hands or drinking his sorrows away.

He knew he looked pitiful and he didn’t care.

Bartosz ignored everyone. He hated their condolences, and their attempts at comforting him. He hated the pitying looks from Magnus and Franziska, and he hated how Adam, not even once, had come to lend him a shoulder like Bartosz had all those years ago when Michael Kahnwald had died.

So much for friendship…

The only person Bartosz didn’t ignore as much as Erna, but that was because she was taking care of his children.

What was he going to do with Hanno and Agnes?

Bartosz couldn’t take care of two children by himself; Hanno was barely seven and Agnes was still just under a year old. There was no way Bartosz could do it, not without breaking down and feeling more overwhelmed. He couldn’t look at them without feeling his eyes burn or his jaw clench.

Looking at them hurt too much.

They reminded Bartosz too much of Silja.

Looking at Hanno and Agnes reminded him of all that their little family could've been. Looking at them reminded him of how hard he had failed. Looking at them reminded him of all the pain and suffering he was trying to get away from. Looking at them reminded him of all moments Silja and his parents would never get to experience and share with them. Looking at them reminded him that he was useless. Looking at them reminded him of how much he loved them and how much he feared for them.

He tried to be as far as away from Hanno and Agnes as possible; he knew it would hurt them, but Bartosz had to. Bartosz knew that if he was close to his children, Adam might come and take them away, or use them against him.

Or worse… Adam might kill them like he killed Martha, like he killed everyone, and like he had let Bartosz live and indirectly kill Silja.

Hanno and Agnes were all that Bartosz had left.

Bartosz couldn’t let Adam take Hanno and Agnes away.

* * *

Of course, Adam took Hanno and Agnes away from Bartosz; why wouldn’t he? He took them away just like he'd taken anyone that ever meant anything to Bartosz.

And the thing was, even if Bartosz did anything about it, he had no power over Adam or time. Anything Bartosz did or didn’t do added to the risk of Hanno and Agnes dying.

But maybe it was for the best that they had fallen under Sic Mundus’s care. Despite his moods, his fears, his depression, his resignation, and his hatred, Bartosz recognized that there was nothing he could give Hanno and Agnes without Sic Mundus’s help.

Maybe if had things been different, if there hadn’t been time travel, secrets, and betrayal, then Bartosz might’ve been a better father to them. He would've liked to have given them everything his father had given to him.

Bartosz would've given anything to be like Aleksander Tiedemann.

* * *

No matter what he did, Bartosz could never be like his father.

His father hadn’t let Regina die. His father hadn’t abandoned his family. His father most certainly never lost his temper easily, and it was never, ever, directly at his son.

But sadly, Bartosz wasn’t Aleksander Tiedemann.

And this was more obvious when he was with Hanno.

Bartosz had never been one to quickly lose his temper, at least not like Magnus and Martha had been known for. But one time, Bartosz almost lost it with Hanno.

After a long day of hard work, Bartosz was greeted by his son. Hanno smiled like it pleased him to see his father.

Almost as if sensing that Bartosz hadn’t had a good day, Hanno had gone to hug him. Bartosz was going to his son hug him, and Bartosz might’ve even reciprocated the hug, if it hadn't been for the words that came out of Hanno’s mouth.

“Everything will be okay, Papa. Adam promised me so.”

Bartosz only needed to give him a disapproving stare before Hanno’s little arms went down along with whatever light had been present in his blue eyes.

“Did Adam tell you to say that?” Bartosz asked, voice wavering, as he felt anger flow through him. Hanno shook his head. Bartosz got closer and gripped Hanno’s arms tightly. “Tell me the truth. Did he tell you to tell me that?”

“You’re hurting me,” Hanno cried, trying to get away. Bartosz tightened his grip and Hanno grimaced. “Papa, let go!” But Bartosz wouldn’t; he needed to know if this was a sick joke. “Hanno, tell me the truth!” But Hanno could only shake his head as tears slid down his cheeks.

Bartosz let him go and frowned when Hanno got against the wall.

With a dead look, Bartosz said, “Don’t ever tell me that phrase again. Do you understand?” Hanno nodded and Bartosz walked away.

Things weren’t _fucking_ okay.

Things were never okay.

How could his parents have lied for so long?

* * *

He had fucking _lied_ to them.

Fucking _Jonas_ had lied to them.

 _He_ was the one who killed Martha.

Jonas _is_ Adam.

Fighting with this older Jonas― _this stranger, this murderer_ ―brought Bartosz a sense of déjà vu; Bartosz felt like they were sixteen all over again, having a fight at the school courtyard. And whoever Jonas was, as Bartosz knew him, was never coming back.

Damn him.

Jonas had betrayed them.

* * *

Being betrayed by Jonas had hurt Bartosz more than he thought or expected. But now that he was older, Bartosz figured that that pain was one of the world’s first punishments against him; after all, Bartosz had come between Jonas and Martha.

Had Bartosz been the first one to betray?

Was it he the one to blame for everything?

What was the truth?

* * *

The truth was that Bartosz couldn’t take it anymore.

He knew that none of them would never go back to their time, to their lives, and that things will never be the same. And even if they did manage to go back to their time, they would never be the same people.

They were stuck in the 19th century.

Their families and friends were mostly likely dead from the apocalypse, and here they were, in 19th century Winden, alive and trying to make some stupid machine work.

It made Bartosz upset just thinking that he had left his mother all sick, worried, and alone when the end of the world occurred. And what had happened to his father? Had he been alone? Why was Bartosz still alive and they were dead? Why had Jonas saved him and not them?

What was so special about Bartosz?

Was this man even Jonas? Sure, he had the same level of stupidity, but as days passed, this man frightened Bartosz like no other. This Jonas seemed insane and fanatic in his search for the God Particle. He made promises that Bartosz was more than sure he would never keep. This Jonas had Bartosz wish for the other one to come back. Bartosz should've never told him to leave and never come back. The other Jonas, the one that used to be his best friend, should be the one here and not this deranged stranger.

Had Jonas always been like that?

Had Bartosz even known Jonas?

* * *

Bartosz now knew the real Jonas. This Jonas―no, Adam―was the real one; he was a lunatic, an idiot, a liar, a murderer, and a monster.

Two years had passed since they arrived in 1888, and they were no closer to going back home.

Bartosz knew deep in his heart that they were never going to leave the past. He might as well dig his own grave waiting for something to happen.

He needed to get away from here.

Bartosz did not give a single damn that it was raining, that things could go very badly, or that he might get sick and die.

He was done.

He was done with Jonas and his bullshit. He was done with Franziska and Magnus. He was done with Winden and its people. He was done with everyone and everything. But most of all, Bartosz was done with himself.

He just wanted to get away from it all, away from all the problems, away from the people, away from himself…

But that was impossible.

In this lonely time, his only constant company, the only voice he could hear and never ignore, the only one who he could trust, the only person on his side was himself. He was all alone.

Wasn’t that sad?

As Bartosz walked through the Winden forest, he made up his mind; he was leaving this town forever.

And that’s when he heard her.

He turned around. “Hello?”

And then, he saw her.

It was like a déjà vu.

She came from behind a tree, and all Bartosz could do was blink as she went up to him. He took some steps towards her and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt any sense of calm. Seeing this impish girl made him feel like this was the first time that something had changed and that he had the power to decide for himself.

“I… didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. She smiled, scrunching her face as the rain hit her, and looked up at the sky before looking back at him. “Sometimes I think it’ll never stop raining.”

And like a fool, Bartosz couldn’t say anything to her. He could just stare, blinking away the raindrops.

_God, she's beautiful._

She got closer once again and said, “I’m… Silja.” She extended her hand.

The right corner of his lips lifted slightly, and Bartosz knew he was going to stay. He gave her his hand.

“Bartosz,” he replied.

She smiled and he knew he liked her.

* * *

As much as he had liked being with Magnus and Franziska at the beginning of their stay in hell, Bartosz preferred the townspeople’s company over theirs.

But nobody could get his time and attention like Silja did.

He really did like being with Silja. She was the only one and the only thing that made sense in this weird reality. Being with her made Bartosz feel like he was just a young adult being with the girl he liked. He couldn’t explain it, but being with her gave him a purpose other than being Adam’s puppet.

Although Bartosz saw Silja every day, he didn’t much about her other than the fact that she liked living in here; apparently, her life had been hard and tiresome. She never went into detail about her past and he never asked. Bartosz understood more than Silja knew, but it didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to be there for her. She was the only person he looked forward to spending time with.

One late afternoon, when they were alone in the forest, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, Silja spoke about her family. Bartosz didn’t even know she had a family.

“I miss my mother,” she confessed as she played with his hands, not meeting his gaze. Bartosz knew that feeling; he also missed his mother. She smiled sadly as she continued. “I don’t remember her all that well, but I do remember how she would tell me stories before going to bed. I remember how warm her hands were, and how sad her eyes were.” She let go of Bartosz’s hands and played with her skirt. “I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Bartosz didn’t know what to say; at least he was lucky enough that he remembered his mother and father. He frowned. “What about your father?”

Silja shrugged. “I don’t know. I never met him.” She tucked some loose strands behind her ear. “I know I have a brother and sister, but our relationship is nonexistent.”

Bartosz got closer and simply rubbed his thumbs against her shoulder.

“What about yours?” she asked him, her eyes locked on his.

Bartosz smiled crookedly and shrugged. “I don’t have siblings.”

Silja rolled her eyes. “I meant your parents. Do you miss them?”

He nodded; he missed his family terribly.

“Tell me about them.”

Bartosz wanted to tell her so much, but he would only tell Silja what he could. “My family and I were happy. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I wish I'd had more time with them… I wish I had told them I loved them more often.” He paused, trying to hold back tears. “Anyway, my parents were always busy, so I always had a lot of free time to myself. But when we were together, they always made sure I knew that they loved me. We were the only family we had.”

She smiled and ran a finger along his features; first his nose, then his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, and lastly his jaw, gently placing her hand on his cheek.

And then she asked him what no one had ever asked him before. “Were you lonely?”

Bartosz’s lips parted. He bit his lips and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked down and nodded slightly. “Sometimes.”

She kissed his cheek. “What happened to them?”

He closed his eyes. He really didn’t know; his only thought was that while he had tried to save his parents, he might've ended up killing them. He had been played, but maybe he was to blame. “They’re dead.”

He wanted to blame Jonas and Noah, but he knew the truth.

 _I think I killed them_ , he thought, tears running down his face.

* * *

There were times Bartosz wanted to kill Adam.

It would easy―Jonas had never been much of a fighter. Bartosz could take him down, he knew could do it… But he could never bring himself to do it.

Bartosz was no murderer.

Bartosz knew he really didn’t have it in him to kill another human being; Bartosz could hurt and fight others, but never kill.

And although the new Sic Mundus leader was cold, emotionless, and frightening, Bartosz couldn’t bring himself to do. He couldn’t do it because behind the scars, behind the fights and the insults, behind the hatred, behind the monster, when Bartosz saw those eyes, he saw the boy who used to be his only friend. It made Bartosz remembered all the times they hung out, all the times they played video games at his place, all the times they went to the lake with Martha and Magnus, all the jokes in class, all the birthday parties, and all the bicycle rides.

Those eyes made Bartosz remember the good times, and Bartosz tried to forget that. He so desperately wanted to forget that Jonas had ever been his friend because those days were gone. There was nothing left in their friendship; there was nothing but an endless darkness.

* * *

Was it better to be in darkness, clueless and ignorant, or was it better to be in the light, knowing the truth and having hope?

* * *

After Bartosz learned the truth, Bartosz wished he'd been left in the dark. Had he been left in the dark, he could've kept on with the illusion just a little longer. Bartosz could've pretended that Silja hadn’t been a time traveler, that Hanno and Agnes wouldn’t eventually become time travelers, that there would be a way back home, that he would see his parents again, that the “Prophecy” would happen, that there was hope for his future...

But fate always had different plans for Bartosz.

* * *

He hadn’t planned nor had he wanted to become an absent father.

He tried not to be resentful towards Agnes. Bartosz knew that it wasn’t her fault for being born in a time when medicine wasn’t as developed as he knew it to be. He tried telling her bedtime stories, but he only knew stories with sad endings. He tried not to grimace when she quietly asked for a story about her mother or his parents. He tried to ignore how she would curl up when she felt him get angry. He tried to be there for her birthday, but it only highlighted Silja’s absence. He tried to comfort her when she had nightmares but failed every time, leaving him with no choice but to get Hanno.

He tried not to be scared of Hanno’s disappointed stare. Bartosz tried to not snap at him whenever Hanno asked if he could help with the cave passage. He tried not to make his tone of voice mocking whenever Hanno mentioned something about God, paradise, or Sic Mundus. He tried to impart whatever he had little knowledge unto Hanno before it was too late. He tried very hard not to think of his son’s future. But most of all, Bartosz tried not to think of Noah.

Bartosz tried to provide for them, but there was barely anything he could do in Winden that didn’t involve Sic Mundus.

He tried being there for them, but he knew it was better if he wasn’t around.

He knew it was better for Hanno and Agnes to be with anyone who wasn’t him.

His only comfort was that nobody would give them what they truly needed.

* * *

Although Bartosz couldn’t give Silja what she deserved, she gave more than he ever needed or deserved.

He loved every moment he shared with her. She made him smile and forget about his pain, even if it was just for a little bit. She made him feel loved in a place where that was so hard to come by.

He wanted to share whatever good he had left in him.

He loved making her laugh and seeing her smile. He loved the way she felt and the way she smelled. He loved holding her hand, and he loved the hugs they shared. He loved all their conversations, from the silly ones to the ones where they shared their deepest fears and dreams.

He was so in love.

Bartosz smiled to himself and looked at Silja, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He planted a small kiss on the top of her head, and he wondered what dating her would have been like in the 21st century. He wondered how they would have met; would she had known who he was because of his family? Would they have met at school, or later in life? What kind of dates would they have gone to? Would she be the type who preferred to go out to the movies, or would she be the type who preferred to eat together at restaurants? Would they have been the type to take loads of pictures and upload to their accounts? Would they have gone to the lake and gone for a swim?

Bartosz had once apologized to her for not being able to give her everything he wanted. Silja had simply shook her head and laughed.

“I don’t care; I’m happy just to be here with you,” she had said before kissing him in the middle of the inn, not caring that there were people around.

* * *

One thing Bartosz liked about Silja was that she didn’t seem to care about what others thought about her.

“Life is too short and miserable to care about what others think,” she would say on occasion. And Bartosz agreed; after all the crap he had gone through, he didn’t care about others’ opinion of him.

She didn’t care about being caught kissing Bartosz, and she didn’t care about what the proper behavior for a young lady should be. She didn’t care about marriage or waiting to have sex. Bartosz knew he should be happy that he had someone who loved him and wanted to be with him, but it still scared him. And although Bartosz didn’t care about others seeing them kiss, proper public behavior, or premarital sex, he found it hard to let go out fear.

Although he had adjusted to living in the past, he found it hard to engage in what she wanted. What if he hurt her? What if they both got a disease? What if he wasn’t careful and got her pregnant? What if she hated him for having a child? What if people started to treat her like some whore? What if she had a baby but died and it was Bartosz’s fault? And what if they found a way to go back? Would Bartosz be able to stay here with her, or would he be able to convince her to leave everything and everyone she loved to be in a time so different from her own? And what if she said no? Would he even think twice about leaving her and going back to his time?

* * *

It always took Bartosz twice the amount of time to say he loved Hanno than it ever did to say he loved Silja.

It wasn’t that Bartosz didn’t love or care for his son, Hanno, because he did. It was just that Bartosz had the unsettling feeling that he had met him before.

He felt useless around him, and he never knew what he was supposed to do. He didn’t even know how to hold a baby correctly! He felt so awkward even if Silja reassured him that he was doing great. And despite Silja’s help, Bartosz didn’t know how to be a father.

He tried to think and relate to his parents.

Had his father felt like Bartosz was feeling now? Had his mother instinctively known what to do with Bartosz? Had becoming a parent been a natural thing for them, or had it been a long learning process? How much longer until Bartosz got the hang of things?

* * *

It had been a long day of work; Bartosz was so tired he knew he couldn’t hang on any longer.

He had spent hours working on the cave passage. It would take years―hell, decades―before he could finish it by himself. But as much as he hated his job, Bartosz took any opportunity to be as far away from Adam as possible.

Bartosz would take all the dirt, sweat, blood, and tears if it meant he wouldn’t have to be near Adam.

He knew he should have gone back to Sic Mundus’s layer once he was done but he found that he didn’t care; he preferred to be locked up in his room, hiding from the rest of the world.

* * *

Bartosz and Silja were hidden from the rest of the world; the woods around them providing shelter from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. They had waited all day for this moment.

Although they had been together for a while, their kisses had never gone beyond Bartosz’s hands on her waist and his lips on her neck, or Silja’s hands all over his hair as she straddled him. But today their kisses were feverish and addictive.

Their breaths mingled as their hands explored all the places they could touch and hadn’t explored. Bartosz felt his hands go from her waist to her rib cage to her chest. His lips moved against hers before going to her cheek, then to ear, and then down her neck, desperately wanting to go further. He wanted to kiss and touch every part of her face and neck, every birthmark, every scar he had and hadn’t seen, and every inch of her skin. And it seemed like Silja wanted to do the same, because her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt as she searched for his lips. Then, she brought her hands to his suspenders to push them down. And that was when Bartosz’s mind shouted at him, making him snap his eyes open and pull away from her.

“Bartosz?” she asked with a worried tone, mischievous look gone. “Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” She tried bringing her hands to his face, but he grabbed her hands and brought them down.

What was he supposed to do?

“Silja,” he started, his voice trembling and his lips in a firm line. “I…”

Silja waited for him to continue, and as if she already knew what he was about to say, she smiled impishly.

Bartosz placed his hands on her cheeks. “Will you marry me?”

She grinned. “It’s about time. I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

It was his wedding day and part of him had wanted to ask Jonas to be his best man.

As he got used to this time period, Bartosz could say that he was happy―the happiest he had been given the circumstances. But it still hurt; it hurt that this was one of the happiest days of his life, and that the people he wished were here weren’t around. This was the day when he got to share his love for Silja with everyone. This was the day when their married life would start. This was the beginner of their future. He should be happy… But damn did it hurt. This was supposed to be a very important day in his life, but his parents weren’t here to share this moment with him.

What would his father have told him as a married man? What about his mother? Would she have been alive? Would she have cried? Would SIlja and her had gotten along? Would the wedding reception have been at his mother’s hotel? Would his parents have wished him everlasting happiness? Would they have given him advice on how they kept their relationship working even after years of being together? Would they have asked for grandchildren?

If things had been different, they would've been here. And chances are Jonas would've been his best man. It wasn’t that Bartosz minded having Magnus as his best man, but it wasn’t the same and their friendship wasn’t what it used to be.

Bartosz didn’t know if he should've been happy that Adam wasn’t present. Maybe if time travelling hadn’t taken its toll on him, hadn’t left him almost completely scared, hadn’t let him cold, calculating, and frightening, maybe Bartosz might've asked him to be his best man… even if it was this older version of Jonas.

If he tried hard enough, Bartosz could still catch a glimpse of who Jonas used to be. Bartosz could see it in the way his eyes seemed to be elsewhere. Bartosz could see it in the way he stood and carried himself. Bartosz could see it in the moments when he was quiet and alone. But he knew Jonas was never coming back. And maybe that was for the best, for Adam’s and Bartosz’s sake.

* * *

He couldn't help but pray for his and Silja's sake. 

It had been eight hours of labor.

Bartosz could do nothing to take her pain away other than whisper that everything will be okay. But that sounded like a lie in his ears; how could his father say that to his mother and still sound like truth? Why was Bartosz failing?

For the rest of day, he stayed quiet, face sweaty and worried, on his knees and by her side. Even if his knees were numb, even if his back hurt, even if he was tired, he never left her side. He knew it was worse for her; if she could handle it, so could he. But that didn’t stop Bartosz from feeling useless. All he could do was place his trembling hand on her shoulder and rub soothing circles on them.

Had his father felt like this when Bartosz was born?

Were new fathers supposed to feel like this, or was Bartosz the exception?

Silja cried, screamed, and whimpered―she used any sound that would allow her to express her pain.

Erna kept telling her to push and Bartosz could do nothing but pray and stay quiet. He wanted to take her pain away.

He did this to her.

Bartosz was to blame.

And then, he heard a baby crying.

Bartosz Tiedemann was a father.

He couldn’t believe it; he was having a hard time processing it.

And then Erna asked for a name, and Silja looked at him. Part of him hoped she would name the baby Aleksander… but then she looked at the baby and said softly, “Hanno.”

And a sick feeling came over Bartosz.

 _Hanno…_?

* * *

He moment he learned that Hanno had been renamed as Noah by Adam, absolutely everything clicked in.

He didn’t need to ask to know what would eventually happen.

Bartosz didn’t even know what to feel anymore.

* * *

When she told him she was pregnant, Bartosz felt anxious. The idea that Silja was with his child made him feel like he was going to be the end her, and he didn’t like that.

* * *

Silja’s second pregnancy had let her in less than ideal conditions.

But one thing that bothered Bartosz was how she seemed in pain about something that wasn’t related to her pregnancy. It was like she wanted to tell him something, but it was too painful to express in words.

It was always the same. She would be concerned and in pain, and Bartosz would try to comfort her and ask her what was wrong. He would place his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her face. But she would look down and shake her head, saying the same words over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, Bartosz. Please believe me, I really am.”

And although something in his gut alerted him that he already knew what she was talking about, Bartosz decided to be ignorant about it. Sometimes a few tears were shed and sometimes there were none, but no matter what, her face would always contort with guilt and fear. And like always, Bartosz would hold her and whisper her name as gentle as he could, promising her that everything would be okay.

He just wanted to be with her. For whatever time they had left, he wanted to be there with her every second.

* * *

He wasn’t there when she needed him most. She had given him so much and he had taken away so much from her.

And now she was dead, and he was still alive.

She had died giving birth to their daughter, and instead of being there with her, he failed her like he had failed his parents.

And where had Bartosz been?

At Sic Mundus.

With Adam, Magnus, and Franziska.

Once again, he chose them over his family.

What punishment was he paying?

* * *

Silja often paid him visits in his dreams.

But he never thought he would get a real visit from her after she died… much less a visit from her younger self. 

It was on that rainy night in 1911 that Bartosz had finally understood why Silja had been apologizing when she was pregnant with Agnes.

He didn’t need to ask to see the obvious and understand the truth.

He couldn’t help but wonder, had Silja been apologizing because of her childhood encounter with Bartosz? Had she been apologizing because her brother was none other than Jonas? Had she been apologizing because she knew what would happen to her? Or had she been apologizing because she known what her role in this mess was?

Bartosz would never know.

* * *

Bartosz was never the same. He was alive but barely living; he was in a hell that just kept getting worse. How cruel is fate.

* * *

“You no longer believe in the prophecy?” Hanno asked.

Bartosz turned around and said, “I believe in the irony of fate.” He looked away and started putting on his clothes.

“Adam says that all things must happen as they’ve always happened. We have to bear the cross, no matter how heavy it seems. In six days paradise begins and hell on earth will end.”

Without turning around, Bartosz said, “Sometimes I wonder if paradise and hell are not one and the same thing.”

“Adam was right. You’ve lost faith.”

Bartosz stopped his actions as he realized where this was going. He slowly turned around. “Is that why he sent you? I’ve waited a long time for this moment. It’s interesting that it’s you.” Resigned, Bartosz turned around, flask in hand, and sat down. As soon as Bartosz had heard Hanno’s words, he knew that this was it; there was no way he would fight his son. He knew it was too late to change the outcome, to change their relationship, to take back all the missed moments and love that could only have occurred under other circumstances.

“I hope that the day comes when you don’t believe everything that Adam tells you. Ask him why he took you in. And why he called you Noah.” Bartosz knew those would be his last words to Noah, no, to Hanno, or whatever was left of his son.

Jonas had taken everything away from Bartosz, anything that ever mattered and meant anything to him.

Bartosz took a sip of water. It pained him that things had turned this way. Had things been different, had Bartosz been different, then none of this shit would have happened.

Maybe in another life, in another time, things would be different, and they would all live and be happy.

He finished his drink and prepared himself in silent resignation as he heard Hanno’s steps coming closer.

Maybe next time…

Bartosz’s world turned black.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out to be way longer and harder than I expected, but I think it worked out. Writing this fic allowed me to explore and understand Bartosz a little bit more; his character really grew on me. I hope I wasn't too off-character on some parts. I think Jonas's betrayal might have hurt him more than what we got to see on-screen. I also think that Bartosz really loved Silja, Hanno and Agnes, but with everything that happened, he was probably overwhelmed, insecure, and wasn't able to be his best self. Please let me know if my take on his POV worked or not. 
> 
> I hope I managed to convey that, at least in my eyes, he was very insecure and was easily manipulated, hence why he got wrapped in this mess. I also think that Bartosz was quite the lonely character; but then again, I think all the Dark characters were lonely.
> 
> If anyone is curious, my take on Bartosz's distate/fear of Franziska was inspired by cchascona's "no honor among thieves". Check out the fic, it's an interesting take/analysis on Bartosz's bullying on her. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this :) I really appreciate it!  
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Any comments, ideas, suggestions, questions, or concerns, feel free to let me know.  
> Thank you!


End file.
